I could tell you that I have amazing friends, one of whom staged a stealth pickup at the airport yesterday, and didn't flinch from hugging me even though I hadn't showered since May.
I could tell you that Mongolia is Big Sky Country. Or that I am currently sporting the darkest tan I have achieved in the past twenty years. That I came home to a gloriously pretty copy of Shadow Bound. That the temperatures in early-summer Mongolia are colder than those I've so far found in Melbourne winter.
All these things — and more — are true.
But instead I will tell you that Mongolia has a quietening effect. It stills the heart, robs the throat of words, and fills it with song.
This is precisely why I travel.